


Obsession

by FancifulRivers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Dark Magic, Homophobia, Other, Possessed Ginny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-22 17:58:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7448743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancifulRivers/pseuds/FancifulRivers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Boy Who Lived and a life long childhood crush.</p>
<p>They were supposed to be together.</p>
<p>That's not what happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A demon I can't face down

**Author's Note:**

> I do not and never will own HP.
> 
> So I've read a lot of stories where Harry gets with someone else, and Ginny becomes increasingly evil/manipulative/dark/etc. in order to justify (I guess) why Harry has ended up with Hermione, Draco, Luna, whoever else it is.
> 
> But I haven't often seen a reason *why* Ginny's like that?
> 
> So I thought I'd attempt to provide one.
> 
> The chapter titles are from Kelly Clarkson's "Addicted."

 

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess named Ginevra. Though poor in household, she was lovely in body and spirit, and spent many an hour pining after the handsome prince, whose name she knew (and everyone knew) was Harry. But alas! Though Ginevra loved Harry very much, he spared her nary a glance. She was only a year younger than him, but it seemed an insurmountable hurdle, and Ginevra began to despair. The beautiful princess was utterly heartbroken, pouring her hopes, dreams, fears, and even her very soul into the treacherous pages of her trusted diary.

Until one day, the diary's treachery overcame her and she was kidnapped, her breath fading away as she was guarded by a hideous and monstrous beast. Few imagined a basilisk could ever  _exist_ , let alone be slain. Yet Harry, her handsome prince, charged to her rescue anyway, a knight in shining armour (if only a sword and a bedraggled hat), and slew the basilisk, at great personal cost. The peril was grievous and he would have perished, were it not for the miraculous properties of phoenix tears. 

But save her he did, and when all was over, the beautiful princess Ginevra found that she loved him a thousand times more. Her heart mended itself and all thought of her diary's betrayal fled her thoughts when Harry asked her if she was all right, for she knew that with him, all things would be.

And when she confessed her love for him, he blushed a fetching red and admitted that his own love had grown, sneaking upon him like a winter's frost, and they lived happily ever after.

Or at least...

That's how it was  _supposed_ to happen.

* * *

 Not for the first time, Ginny thanked her newfound strength in Silencing Charms, bolting upright in bed, nightgown stuck to her back with sweat and tears cooling on her cheeks. She dreamed about _him_ again, about watching herself do whatever he liked, while she had no control. It had been a fond habit of the Dark Lord's, wearing her about the castle like a new pair of robes. Or a tatty set, considering she was a  _Weasley_. Oh, how he'd enjoyed those snide, sly little digs at her heritage, how her Light-besotted parents were only dragging down the family name, how their poverty must be ridiculed. How shameful it was that a pureblood family could be so looked down upon. It had rankled, coming from a treasured companion, but he was  _right_.

That was the damnable thing, Ginny thought sourly, flopping back down on the bed. It _was_ shameful how poor they were. Her own father worked in a Ministry office that was a total joke. Her mum, though she loved Molly, was a housewife. They'd had a ridiculous amount of children, and they couldn't really care for them all properly. Look at how they'd treated her, finding out she'd been possessed by a murderous diary! It was easy for everyone else to pat her on the head and assure her that she was all right.  _Not your fault, Ginny_ and  _You couldn't do anything about it, Ginny_. Her parents had refused to let her see a Mind Healer, citing cost, but truthfully, Ginny didn't want to see one anyway. Not if she would have to pay for the same litany of platitudes. She'd been broken into a million pieces and put back together by bloody  _Voldemort_ , how  _could_ she be all right?

Her dorm mates still treated her like fragile china. It chafed, but Ginny was just grateful they hadn't turned on her and declared her a rising Dark Lady instead.

_You're more like me than you think you are, Ginevra,_ his elegantly penned words rolled around in her head and she growled, fumbling around in her trunk for her Charms book and balancing it on her knees. One quick  _Lumos_ and she could be revising again. Studying was about the only thing it seemed like she  _could_ do anymore.

* * *

 

Sometimes, she thought as she stalked down the corridor, late to Potions but not really caring- sometimes she thought she could still feel him. His mind had a particular- she shied away from using the word  _taint_ , even if it was accurate. It was like ice and the sickly sweet taste of poison, but it was  _exhilarating_ \- a breath of fresh air from mid-January, a thin scree of ice filming a pond, easily cracked and traitorous.

"Hey,  _Weasel,_ " a boy in green and silver sneered. A shove against her shoulder and she sprawled painfully into the stones. Even without looking, she could tell it had bruised.

" _Locomotor mortis_ ," she hissed, flicking her wand at him and having the enormous satisfaction of seeing him immediately fall flat on his face.

_He had it coming,_ she told herself as she hurried into the dungeons, not sparing a backward glance for the Slytherin.  _Not like Snape would ever dock points from his own House. And I've got to borrow bruise balm off the twins or something. No, he_ definitely _had it coming._

Ginny steadfastly ignored the delicious icy tingle on the back of her neck, like a breath of spearmint. Not even Snape taking five points off Gryffindor for her thirty second tardiness could make her feel bad.

* * *

It was extremely frustrating being related to the best friend of the Boy Who Lived, Ginny decided, ears straining for the snippets of conversation going on just a sofa away. She was paying desultory attention to her Transfiguration essay but to be honest, even her quill scratching had paused almost ten minutes ago. It wasn't like anyone else had noticed. Ron and Harry were arguing again- no, it was Ron and  _Hermione_ again, and Ginny sighed, wishing that she could discreetly hex them. It was starting to seem like every time they saw each other, they bickered, and poor Harry-

Her eyes lingered on the messy-haired boy, who sat with practiced blankness, though she could see trembling in his shoulders.

Poor Harry had to deal with all of it.

It was awful, really, and when they actually ended up together (she knew it wouldn't happen for ages yet, Harry was a third year and hadn't realised girls existed, not to mention what her mum would say if she tried to date already), she would be sure to have very strong words with Ron about his probable crush on Hermione and all the terrible ways he was going about it. Harry didn't need to hear them shout at each other all day, did he?

_You do get maudlin, don't you, Ginevra?_ Tom had told her once, after a similar evening spent hunched in an arm chair in the common room, watching Ron get quite red in the face while Harry looked like he wanted to disappear.

_I just want him to be happy with me,_ she'd written plaintively. He'd offered reassurances, but she was sure they were lies now.  _Probably_ lies anyway. It wasn't like the Dark Lord had actually  _cared_ about her- beyond how useful her life force would be.

Idly, Ginny picked up her quill and resumed work. It wasn't until she actually looked down at the parchment that she discovered she'd just been writing Harry's name over and over in the margins.

 

 


	2. It's like I'm running from you all the time

Ginny gasped for breath, feeling her stomach heave and hoping that she wouldn't vomit again. The loo was utterly deserted, but she couldn't count on that for long. She wiped her mouth with a swatch of toilet paper, hair hanging lank and straggling in her face.

It was so  _stupid_ , she railed at herself, bitter that anything could still affect her. Professor Moody was doing his  _job_. He was  _supposed_ to teach them about the Unforgivable Curses (and at least in her year, he hadn't actually  _demonstrated_ them, she'd never seen Ron so pale and Neville looked like he'd sicked up too. Not to mention poor Harry, whose scar looked inflamed and eyes looked more haunted than the Burrow's attic).

She couldn't remember if Tom had used any of them on her. The Imperius Curse, really- she would have noticed unrelenting agony, and obviously, despite his best efforts, she wasn't dead. Sitting back on her heels, Ginny pushed her hair behind her ears, straightening out her robes.

She had to  _know_ was the thing. But how? Her brothers wouldn't be willing to risk Azkaban by putting one of the Unforgivables on their baby sister. 

A thought bloomed in her mind, stunning in its simplicity, and she staggered to her feet. She had to hurry if she wanted to catch him in his office.

* * *

 

"Please, Professor," she begged, freckle-faced and damp-eyed, penitent hands clasped before her. Moody eyed her, magical eye spinning in its socket.

"All right, girl," he finally grunted. "Suspect Albus wouldn't be too pleased-"

"The headmaster doesn't need to know," Ginny quickly said, cheeks stained pink. The professor snorted.

"Just for a moment, so you can see what it feels like," he promised her. "It's good practice but..." His shrug looked painful. " _Imperio!_ "

Ginny stood still, muscles falling slack and pliant. Her mind was blissfully blank and open (and  _familiar_ , but she wouldn't linger on that thought now, she couldn't).

_Jump up and down,_ someone whispered in her head. It was not Tom, couldn't be Tom, but she jumped up and down anyway.  _Sit on the desk_. It was awkward clambering up, but she did it anyway, swinging her legs a little.

"There," Professor Moody said firmly, and Ginny flushed bright red to her ears to find herself sitting on a desk, shoulders still heaving from the effort of jumping in place.

"It's all right, girl," Moody said, obviously fearing she might cry. "Bloody hard to throw that off."

"Harry did," Ginny mumbled, and her voice was bitter.

"Yes," Moody agreed, taking a swig from his flask. "Come back tomorrow, Weasley. If you want to know how to fight it off."

She smiled blindingly.

"Yes, sir!"

* * *

" _Imperio!_ "

Ginny sat in front of Professor Moody's desk, not noticing him locking the door or flicking several silencing and locking wards in place. He took another healthy swig from his hip flask, grimacing at the taste.

_Tell me about your first year at Hogwarts. Tell me about the diary. Tell me about Voldemort._

And Ginny did.

" _Obliviate!_ "

* * *

"Are you sure you're all right?"

Ginny jumped, swiveling around to see Ron standing there, brows scrunched in concern.

"Yes," she snapped. "Honestly, why wouldn't I be?"

"You've been acting funny all day," Ron mumbled, scratching at his elbow. "I just- it reminded me-"

"I haven't written in any more soul-sucking diaries if that's what you're getting at," Ginny said, watching Ron blush. "I'm just stressed, Ron, that's all. I haven't finished most of my homework." She lifted her Transfiguration book for emphasis. Ron laughed.

"Better not let Hermione hear you say that," he warned. "She'll give you a study schedule.  _Colour coded_ and everything."

"Perish the thought," Ginny said dryly. "Seriously though, I'm fine. You can tell Fred and George that, too," she added, raising her voice just a little. The twins looked over and winked, not embarrassed in the slightest to be caught eavesdropping.

She opened her text again, but the words swam in front of her eyes.

No soul-sucking diaries, but she couldn't remember the last several hours. 

When her brothers were busy, Ginny surreptitiously slipped her hands in her pockets. She didn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved when her questing fingers met nothing but a spare quill.

 

 


End file.
